Separation
by Rykea
Summary: A oneshot of lust and despair based upon the quote, 'Love knows not its own depths until the hour of separation.' [TezuFuji]


**Author's Notes:** This oneshot is the first product of a writing challenge I undertook, more or less to write twenty-five themed works all incorporating one of twenty-five love quotes. Matching my style, "Separation" is overly figurative and slightly depressing. (You can be the judge though.) For this story I used the quote, "Love knows not its own depths until the hour of separation," so use your imagination as to what morbid take I tacked onto the quote for my fic's theme. All in all enjoy, and do keep in mind that thiswork is written from Fuji's point of view.

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**Separation**  
_By Rykea Night_

Crystalline droplets of the purest white descend before my vision, the skeletons of trees twisting their death-burnt arms into the light wind, their silenced screams tearing into my flesh with each step, each painful breath. I clench my jaw tight as I weave through the many marble pyres blossoming from the lily-laced ground, each forgotten name, each fallen quote, etched within my mind. Their reflection is the essence of pain, of suffering; it is the calm of death, the presence of denial. Each untended stone, each frostbitten flower—their stories of forlorn abandonment, deserted lust. My twisted legacy.

Within my quivering state, I feel his hand tighten around my own, his warm flesh ridding my frostbitten bones of their cruel ache. I look up to a distant face carved of elegant porcelain, eyes still holding their juvenile intensity, their thriving spirit of pride and grief. He had never changed regardless of how many years passed, how many sceneries changed. Life drove us apart, tennis left us memories, and pain brought us back. And through it all, I continued to love—love and long.

With winter's chilling sigh, I run my fingers through my sandy tresses, the cool sensation of his gentle hands running through my hair, coursing over my flesh, trickling through my memory. Each and every moment, every caress, every unspoken word, continues to linger in my mind, each beautiful sensation carved perfectly upon the threshold of my soul. He has that power over me, that hold, and freedom is a sickening nightmare never to be relieved.

"You're shaking," he observes, his tone quiet and calm, his voice rich and deep.

"I'm remembering," I say lightly. "I'm recalling who we were, what we did, our time spent together, our time spent apart."

He makes no noticeable acknowledgment of my words with the exception of a gentle squeeze to my hand. The cool warmth continues to wash over me, fueling the consummation of the blissful ghosts of the past. Images of our strife, our lust, our turmoil, rest carved upon my eyes; the idyllic sensation of his flesh crawling over mine. I shudder, recalling my betrayal, my confession, his seeping blood.

"Can you forgive me?"

"For what?"

Gently, subtly, I coil my arms around his elegant neck, catching my own stare in his effervescent eyes. Those eyes once entranced me, and now I plead to them in hopes of disregarded retribution. Perhaps I deserve what had happened.

"Forgiveness for all the pain I've caused you, all those years of endless anguish."

Caressing my face with his elegant hands, his smoothing flesh, he tenderly brushes his lips over mine, his sweet scent washing over my senses, enthralling my mind.

"Never have I blamed you," he whispers lightly upon my ear, his breath warm on my skin. "Fate is cruel, unjust. Pleasure becomes pain, happiness runs to ruin, but there is more to life than misery. Even though we may feel trapped within its sadistic embrace, we will always have the past, those bittersweet moments shared. It is not impartial of me to hold you responsible for our karma, nor it is right for you to blame yourself."

"I miss you," I reply, the cold once again coursing through my blood, sending shivers through my shattered heart. "This separation, this longing nightmare..."

I turn towards his fate, his name sadistically carved upon a sheet of stone, phantoms of the past screaming in fury. The reminder of my turmoil rests sheathed in a fine blanket of cotton pearl, silence carving each fine tremor of my soul, my condemnation. The ache tears at my chest, my throat, as he once again wrap his arms around my frozen frame.

"Why?" I finally choke in silence, his embrace tightening with my icicle tears. "Why did this happen? Why did you..."

"Don't say it."

But it is to late, and with my fallen words he is torn from me, his spirit a captive to the world of the soundless, the stray. I collapse upon the pyre, droplets of crystal blood spilling unto the frostbitten petals of yesterday's rose. Everything has been shattered, disturbed, destroyed. My life, our love... it rests in splinters thrown to winter's callous breath, my vindictive soul.

_Why did you have to die?_

_La fin._


End file.
